


(Un)believer

by agent_starbuck



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Cunnilingus, Drabble, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Mild Smut, Smut, fox mulder being tender
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:01:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21734185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agent_starbuck/pseuds/agent_starbuck
Summary: Leave it to Scully to finally make a skeptic out of him after all this time. After late nights over Chinese arguing about this theory or that. After long trips in a rental discussing the differences between science and psudo-science. She'd laugh if she knew that after just one night, in the hazy aftermath of post-coital bliss, she became his greatest X-File.Short drabble originally posted to Tumblr.
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Comments: 5
Kudos: 102





	(Un)believer

If there is one thing that Mulder is, has always been, it's a believer. Sometimes, the more outrageous-- the more implausible-- something seems, the more compelled he is to seek and prove its existence. It's become something of a game to him. A challenge against those who think his cockamamie theories nothing but the rantings of a man who's finally lost his grip on reality. He's just a guy who's lost his sister, after all.

But tonight, as he lays in her bed-- arm draped possessively over her toned midriff, nose pressed against the velvet skin on her neck-- he's not sure he ever really believed in anything. He's not sure anything can be real, has ever been real. Because this? Experiencing the woman he loves more than life itself in her most vulnerable of moments as she sleeps in his arms? Well, nothing has ever seemed so far-fetched in his life. How the fuck did he get so lucky?

It's the greatest kind of torture, listening as the soothing sound of her steady breathing lulls him to sleep like a siren call in the night. Reluctantly, he allows himself to succumb to a few minutes' sleep. But then a soft moan escapes her lips, or she nestles against him just a little more, and he swears reality doesn't even exist. How can it when even in his wildest dreams, nothing has ever felt this good, this _right_?

Leave it to Scully to finally make a skeptic out of him after all this time. After late nights over Chinese arguing about this theory or that. After long trips in a rental discussing the differences between science and psudo-science. She'd laugh if she knew that after just one night, in the hazy aftermath of post-coital bliss, she became his greatest X-File.

Experimentally, he brushes a thumb against the soft underside of her breast, as if the tactile sensation alone will tether him back to reality, and he waits. A car door slams in the distance, and his heart hammers against his chest-- reverberates through his ears. He does it again, then three times, and is finally rewarded with a subtle hitch in her breathing.

"Mulder," she sighs against the pillow, and the sound travels straight to his groin. Hearing her say his name like _that,_ all softness and tenderness, makes his heart swell in his chest. Makes other body parts swell, too.

He presses his lips against that spot below her ear-- the one he's only very recently discovered drives her crazy-- and she wriggles her hips against him. "Mmm, Mulder," she says again as his fingers finally skim over her taught nipple. "We, ngh, have to be at work in... three hours."

"Wow, you really overestimate my ability to last anywhere near that amount of time when you look and sound the way you do..." He begins to kiss a pathway down her shoulder, her arm, her ribcage, until he finally settles himself between her legs, breathing her in.

"... When you smell the way you do."

Her nimble fingers dance along his scalp, encouraging him, as she squirms against him, and he shudders.

"Mmmm," she hums, and his tongue finally reaches out to collect the wetness dripping from her folds.

"And, especially, when you _taste_ the way you do. God, Scully, you're so damn sexy."

"Mulder," she breathes. "Please."

He wastes no time in conducting his own experiments. After all, isn't this what skeptics do? Every moan. Every rise of her hips. Every time she flutters and squeezes against his fingers. Her reactions tell him how fast to go or when to back off. He's collecting evidence-- storing and cataloging it for later. He doesn't ever want to forget what it takes-- or how it feels-- to make Dana Scully come.

She falls and shatters against him, and he crawls along her body to finally capture her lips with his. As her breathing evens out, and he rests his forehead against hers, their eyes meet, and the words that have been caught in the back of his throat for what feels like eternity, spill from his mouth.

"I love you."

He watches and waits for the incredulous look of disbelief to register across her features, but it doesn't. Instead, she just smiles-- wet eyes shining against the dim light filtering in through the blinds-- and presses her lips softly to his in response.

"I know."

A skeptic turned believer.


End file.
